Bob
by JTheGoblinKing
Summary: A story of how a ghost got his name.


Disclaimer: The Dresden Files belong to Jim Butcher and the Scifi channel. The following is a short story based on how Bob got his name.

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Bob

Little Harry Dresden stood beside his uncle in the large, opulently furnished room. This was where the skull rested between the boy's lessons.

'Come out, ghost!' Came the sharp and obvious command from the boy's uncle, Justin Morningway.

The old skull on the table seemed to flicker to life. A dim amber coloured light flickered from within the old skull. It was like the light of a candle flame and yet it lacked a wick as it flickered from it's macabre setting. The light intensified and finally it emerged from one of the skull's eye sockets and came out into the open air. Like an over sized fire fly it darted upward. Trailing behind it was a dark blackish smokey haze. The light hovered at about eye level. The smokey haze that trailed now expanded and a seemingly solid and very real looking image of a man took shape. He had white hair and light, pale aqua eyes. He wore a suit that would have been considered stylish in nearly any time period. He stood about six feet tall. He had manacle bracelets on each wrist with sigils carved into them. A sign of the ghost's confinement, bound to the skull and doomed to serve whomever owned it. This was the soul of a deceased sorcerer, Hrothbert of Bainbridge, The ghost was not of a young man but he was not elderly either. He stood with a quiet look of dignity and detachment.

The young boy with the dark hair looked up at his stern faced uncle. 'How come you don't call him by name?'

'Ghost is just easier.' Justin said. 'Besides, he needs to be reminded of his place every now and again. Remember, he's supposed to be punished for all eternity. That was the sentence.'

The ghost's expression was a mask of indifference hiding all emotion about this reminder.

'I'm not doing it to be mean.' Justin said. 'I'm simply enforcing the facts. He is a ghost, damned for all eternity and he needs to learn to accept what he is.'

Harry didn't really understand the need in humbling his teacher. 'Can't you just call him something else?'

Before Justin could answer the ghost spoke up.

'Why do you insist on talking as if I can't hear you?' Came the ghost's sharp response to their conversation. 'You bid me to come out of my skull and then you talk as if I am not even here! What is the purpose in that?'

Harry was growing accustomed to his crankiness. 'What does the name Hrothbert mean?'

'It's an old name.' The ghost said. 'Not one in common use today. I suppose over time it's evolved into the name you know to be Robert.'

'Robert.' Harry repeated. 'Robert... Robby... Rob. Bob!'

There was a private smirk playing on Justin Morningway's lips as the little boy referred to the spirit of the ancient sorcerer as Bob.

Harry took Justin's smile to be one of approval. 'Bob! Bob! Bob! That's what I'll call you.'

'Please!' The ghost groaned. 'I would prefer it if you use my real name.

'But I like Bob.'

'Me too.' Justin Morningway said, taking private pleasure in the situation.

Bob gave Justin a look that seemed to say 'Oh, you're just enjoying this, aren't you?'

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The next day 'Bob' continued.

'Hey Bob!' Came Harry's excited voice as he walked into the room for his afternoon lessons on potions.

The ghost flinched. 'I told you not to call me that. Now today we're going to be covering the difference between the purposes of magnesia and magnesia alba. Now magnesia alba is more commonly known as mil-'

'Sorry Bob.' Harry said.

The ghost groaned. 'If you please!' The lesson continued fairly smoothly however Harry ignored all protests and continued to address the ghost as Bob until the name became a casual and familiar thing... at least to the boy.

This continued on for about a week. 'Hey Bob.' and 'Hi Bob.' and 'What does this mean, Bob?' There was also the occasional 'What's up, Bob?' And the ever annoying... 'Bob, Bob! Bo-Bob, Fe Fi fo fob, Bo-ob. Bob!'

The over use of the name Bob carried on for several months. Even Justin Morningway started using it, but most likely just to annoy the ghost.

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Thunder flashed. The sky was dark. It had been raining all day and now it was early evening. The light had come darting from the skull and it hovered for a few moments, the dark smokey trail taking shape as a suit of clothes. Bob took form. He could hear the whimpers before he turned around to allow his spectral eyes to settle on the source that he could only vaguely detect from within the skull. It wasn't real sight, it just seemed to be sight. All his senses were illusionary but he could detect all things around him.

The ghost stared blankly for a moment at what he saw. Huddled in the far corner of the well furnished room was little Harry. His knees were drawn close to his chest. He was holding the skull against him as if Bob could protect him from some unseen evil.

Justin Morningway had left hours ago to attend the meeting at the High Council. Bob stepped toward Harry and knelt down. 'Are you all right, Harry?'

'Bob...' Harry looked up at the ghost with a pleading gaze.

'What is it, Harry?' Bob's tone was gentler than usual.

'I'm... I'm not afraid of the rain. It's just...'

'Yes?'

'Earlier today I heard these people in the book store. They were talking about this book series about this kid wizard and I thought it sounded really cool. I wanted to go read them. But then I heard them say something else. They said it was evil. They said people who do magick go to Hell. Bob... Am I evil?'

'Certainly not!' Bob was angry on Harry's behalf. The boy had been through enough. What sort of ignorance had Harry had the misfortune of being exposed to?

'How do you know?' Harry asked.

'Because I AM damned, Harry. And the damned can recognize the damned. You are not damned. You are a very good, powerful little boy. Your powers are a gift you were born with. To you it's as much a part of you as your eyes or your ears. You're not at fault for using something that has always been a part of you like those genetic mutation things you read about in those comic books of yours.'

Harry looked at the ghost with a gaze that said he wanted to believe him.

'Powers don't make someone evil, Harry. It's what you do with your power that counts. You are not evil.'

'Thanks.' Harry looked relieved at the ghost's reassurance. He got up slowly and set the skull down in it's usual place before his Uncle Justin might see that Bob's skull had been moved. He walked toward the door and then turned to face the ghost again.

'And Bob...'

This time Bob chose not to comment about the name. 'Hmm... Yes?'

'I don't think you're evil either...' Harry continued out of the room.

And suddenly Bob did not mind being called Bob.

The End.


End file.
